


Shallow Breaths

by mebfeath



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I couldn't get the scene out of my head, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mebfeath/pseuds/mebfeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He let out a shallow breath, her name barely audible in the fog of their fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shallow Breaths

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for the spacing; I wanted to delineate who was speaking, but the scenes change too frequently to really use any kind of descriptor. Eventually I elected just to use the larger spaces. Sorry if that's frustrating, but it was the best I could think of!

He let out a shallow breath, her name barely audible in the fog of their fear.

She stared at his chin, her eyes scanning the stubble below his lips, knowing that as soon as she lifted her eyes to his she’d be lost. There’d be no going back. His eyes were the point of no return.

They always had been.

He moved almost imperceptibly closer – ever closer – and she didn’t move, didn’t breathe. She didn’t dare, lest he move away.

His face dipped slightly as he moved closer.

_Mouth. Lips._

She knew his mouth well; his face had been her study for so long. His face told her everything; his lips barking orders, whispering quiet words of encouragement, telling jokes, laughing.

She heard her breath hitch in her throat as his smile flashed across her mind. It was rare, but like an infectious disease that caused her own mouth to break out into its own huge smile, no matter how she tried to hide it.

She was terrified. He needed to move away.

They knew the stakes.

She knew it would take almost nothing, and everything, for him to walk away. All she had to do…

He was still moving, barely moving, but moving. Moving towards her.

 _Don’t stop,_ her mind screamed, her every muscle taught.

 

 

If he kept moving he knew where this was going to end.

Movement kept him alive.

He knew she was avoiding his eyes, trying desperately to regain control, reign in her emotions.

His mind was blank.

All he could see was the blue of her eyes glinting in the sliver of moonlight that slid across her face, catching her eyes and hair in its path.

Her eyes had always captured him. They were just blue enough to hold your attention for those few extra milliseconds before looking away. He knew because he’d watched other men get lost in her eyes the way he knew he had.

He let out a slow, shallow breath, her name on his lips.

 

 

His nose.

His nose was dangerous because it led to his eyes; his dark eyes that never failed to see into her soul without revealing anything. His eyes caught her; held her captive.

If she moved now, it would be over. He would stop, they would separate, and the world would continue spinning.

Just like it always had.

He was close, now; she could feel his shallow breaths on the bridge of her nose. 

His cheekbones were high; they almost hid his eyes from the world. If she looked at his eyes, she would have to acknowledge he was here, standing in front of her. She would have to make decisions.

She could hide, here, hide under his gaze. Allow it to flow over her without returning it. Not yet.

Not yet.

She saw his upper arms tense slightly out of the corner of her eye; it was just enough notice that she didn’t jump when she felt his fingers brush her forearms.

 

 

His heartbeat was deafening; he wondered vaguely if she could hear it. It was easy to listen to, to focus on. The slow and steady rhythm gave him an easy reason to move.

_Boom, boom, boom._

He was moving to the beat of his heart, he thought, realising the irony as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He didn’t grimace at the cliché. He knew it was true, this time. He was the cliché.

His heart was dictating his actions now. His brain was working on autopilot.

For the first time in forever.

 

 

Her heartbeat was deafening, the sound ringing in her ears. The increase, she knew, was in direct correlation with the fingers that were now slowly trailing up her arms, leaving what felt like burn marks in their wake.

Her entire body was tense; she could barely breathe, but she didn’t want to in case her breath pushed him away.

He was still moving, his body almost touching hers now.

He was so intangible: the idea of him lived in her dreams, in the unbidden thoughts that lived and thrived in the recesses of her mind. The thoughts that lay buried until something happened and he _looked_ at her.

The thoughts took over.

 

 

His arms were acting on their own, his fingers alive and moving of their own accord as they traced up the cardigan-covered arms of the woman standing in front of him.

He didn’t think of her as a woman, he’d realised fairly early on.

Not even now.

She was just…her.

There wasn’t anyone like her; she didn’t belong to the group that was _women_.

She was just _Carter_. Sam. Samantha Carter.

His Carter.

 

 

He wasn’t looking at her.

Her eyes had betrayed her; his head had moved slightly and her eyes had flicked ever so slightly up to look into his.

He was looking down at her arms…at his arms, his hands. His fingers that were now sliding up from her elbow to her upper arms.

His eyes were dark; the moonlight caught just the side of his face, leaving some of it in shadow. It was bright enough that she could see his face easily, the bright light of the full moon reflecting off the silver of his hair.

His mouth was set, lips slightly parted. She knew the look; he was studying her.

 

 

She was watching him.

His heart started hammering in his chest.

This was it.

His fingers slowly worked their way up to her shoulders, the pads of his fingers slowly gliding across the smooth fabric of her jumper. Her eyes didn’t move from his, despite their unshared gaze. His fingers slowly drifted across her shoulders towards her exposed neck.

 

 

As his fingers slid lightly over her skin, her breath caught. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second as her body almost craved his touch. Her skin was tight, his fingers barely there, their soft, feathered touch leaving nothing behind but tingling, burning skin. His fingers slowly slid around her neck, the palm of his hands gently resting against her skin.

Her eyes flicked open again; the air had shifted.

 

 

He could feel her pulse under his palm.

He didn’t need to feel it to know she was terrified; as terrified as he was.

They shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be doing this.

His nose was barely centimetres from hers; he could feel her breath against his own.

He should stop.

He should let her go.

He should walk away.

Her blue eyes were suddenly fixed on his, and he was lost.

 

 

They’d reached the point of no return.

She knew that. She could see it in his eyes; she knew it as soon as his head had tilted slightly, angling towards hers.

He moved impossibly slowly, every second feeling like forever and nothing.

The world had stopped spinning.

She felt his forehead touch hers, the soft touch setting her nerves on fire. The fog was electric now; he was so close.

So close.

She tilted her head just slightly, her body suddenly desperate and terrified at the same time; she needed him now. They’d gone too far; the walls had been breached.

They’d passed the point of no return. There was no turning back.

She felt his lips move as he let out a breath, her name caught in the air as his lips brushed against hers, dry lips on dry lips.

 

 

Something at the back of his mind screamed at him as he brushed his lips across hers.

He ignored it. It was easy to do.

He grazed his lips across hers again, gently seeking. He felt her lips move, just barely.

His mind took off without him; his mouth gently pressing against hers as he kissed her properly this time, lips against lips.

Her lips were impossibly soft; his imagination had let him down for so long.

 

 

His fear and trepidation was powerful; it oozed from his every pore. She knew she was the same; they were too old, to war-weary for anything else. It was too ingrained. It had become a part of who they were. The dance had become the reality, the norm. The pattern.

It had lost its life.

She opened her mouth just slightly against his, frightened of her every move; one of those moves might push him away.

 

 

He let his mouth and fingers take over, allowing his mouth to kiss her just that little bit harder, his thumbs gently stroking the soft skin of her cheeks, his fingers slowly sinking into her short hair.

He revelled in every second, memorising each moment and storing it away for forever; the forever they would have.

The forever he wouldn’t survive without.

 

 

Her arms were at his waist before she’d even registered the movement; she felt his body shift slightly at the touch.

He’d moved closer.

 

 

Her hands were at his waist, and his mind was in overdrive, his senses now overloaded. He wanted to slow this, memorise each movement individually so he could replay the movie in his mind.

He couldn’t stop now.

He kissed her hungrily, and she responded, opening her mouth further as he tilted his head again. He needed her. He needed this.

He couldn’t dance any more. 

 

 

She slid her arms up his back, pulling him closer to her, their mouths hungrily exploring. She felt one of his hands move from her face to her waist as he slowly pulled her to him, his belt buckle brushing against her stomach.

Her arms curled around his shoulders, pulling him closer to her.

Her mind was in overdrive, and she let it run.

 

 

Something exploded in the back of his mind: his hand slid around her waist, slowly closing the small distance between her and the wall behind her, pressing her against the wooden panelling.

He could feel her surprise and he panicked for a split second until she softly dragged her nails down his back and his mind stopped working.

  

 

She gasped for breath as he pulled back for a second, his forehead resting on hers. He breathed her name again as she slid her hands up his back and to his neck; it was her turn to touch his face.

He pulled back slightly as she gently ran her thumb across the stubble-roughened skin of his cheek, along his cheekbone, eventually sliding down to his mouth. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin as she gently brushed her thumb against his lips. She felt his eyes on hers as she surveyed her movements, her eyes eventually drifting back up to his.

His eyes were dark – like hers, she knew – but bright.

She slowly moved her thumb away, gently pulling his head back to hers.

 

 

He kissed her gently this time, softly caressing her lips with each kiss, his hands settling on her waist as he enjoyed everything about her at that moment.

 _His_ Carter.

 

 

His kisses were insistent yet gentle; slow enough that she could commit them to memory, but deep enough that she could slowly slide her fingers into his soft hair.

 

 

He gasped slightly at the feel of her nails dragging softly across his scalp.

It was over now.

He ran one hand down her back and settled on her hips, pulling her closer to him as he pushed her against the wall.

  

 

The atmosphere had changed.

She let out a small gasp; her hands slid down his back as she pulled at his waist, her mind shutting down for good when his hand slid down over her hip bones and pulled at her leg.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pushed her against the wall, her leg now wrapped around his back, his belt buckle digging into her stomach.

She didn’t mind.

 

 

His mind had a single goal now; a single focus.

He wasn’t going to achieve it where he was. Well, he didn’t want to achieve it where he was.

 

 

She let out a shallow breath, his name barely audible in the fog of their fear.

She stared into his eyes, their breaths coming in pants, her gaze answering his silent question. 

There was no going back now; they were lost.


End file.
